Real fire
by Paperairplan-e
Summary: A fanfiction going deeper within the relationship of Katniss and her beloved stylist Cinna. There was so much more to him than just gold eyeliner and amazing dresses.


Hello HG fans!

I'm back with another HG fanfiction that would evolve around Katniss and Cinna. And, NO. I am not taking this to a romantic route. I simply wanted to explore the relationship Everdeen had with her loving stylist and close friend.

So please, Review! I would like to hear what you have to say about this first chapter.

I'll most likely post more of these scenes between Katniss and Cinna once I get enough feed back to see what I should fix and what I should keep.

R&R, they keep me high and happy!

DISCLAIMER: ALL DIALOGUES IN HERE ARE SUZANNE COLLINS'. A FEW LINES FROM THE MOVIE WERE TAKEN.  
_**The Hunger Games (c)**_ belongs to the lovely **Suzanne Collins**.

_-**Ina**_

P.S. I promise, I shall blog about life soon!

* * *

District twelve. I now find myself wondering exactly why I chose this district. To represent it with the only thing I can actually bring to them: image. The type of image that would make the entire country of Panem remember the tributes of the coal miners' land forever. I swore people would remember, they had to. As I make my way to the door revealing the braided tribute, I can't help but remember what she has done, what she has done for a change that not only gives pride to her district but hope to those in need of it. I remember the day I watched the reaping on the screen, I remember that day she screamed the little blond girl's name, a cry with desperation yet deep fire within it. Her bravery was beyond her and even if it were the most obvious thing, just by seeing her face that very moment she was publicly announced as District twelve's first volunteer she still knew what she wanted. The grief her face silently displayed was more than enough to show the world, to show Panem that no child deserved to die the way she might. Katniss Everdeen was quite the personality I needed to add seasoning in my daily life.

I held my hand on the knob, taking in the contained air to relieve the tension I began feeling. I was definitely tingling with excitement. Turning the knob and pushing the door open felt like forever quite honestly. I instantly meet deep grey eyes, similar to the fog and the night-clouds that come to take away the sunlight. Intense was actually the only word possible to describe them. Her naked body stayed motionless, giving me more time to see what would bring out the spark within. Her tan skin was glowing due to the treatments Venia and the others had given her, her face had a natural flush manifesting her discomfort with her actual surroundings, but the one part of her that caught my eye was her hair. Braided delicately yet skillfully, it was a mix of love and discipline all in one and it suited her more than it would have to anyone else.

My feet made my way closer to her and I then decided it was time to break the silence filling the air.

"Hello Katniss. I'm Cinna, your stylist." I said, not breaking eye contact with her. To my surprise, I received quite a modest answer, quite a fragile answer from someone who portrayed courage itself.

"Hello." She said back, her eyes slowly darting to the ground as I make my way even closer.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you." She did not need my pity but I couldn't seem to refrain myself from expressing what I needed to. "I'm here to help you in any way I can." And _I will_, I promised inwardly. For a moment, her eyes widened revealing even more emotion that they already had. My heart dropped, realizing that such beautiful eyes may never shine again once the games start. Katniss quickly regained her calm face and let out a brief scoff.

"Most people just congratulate me." Her short words brought out the stench of disgust slowly making its way to my spine, vertebrate by vertebrate. What was there to congratulate? The fact children were forced into a blood-bath they never asked for? The fact they live every year fearing their name would be pulled out? The fact that a beautiful girl who had her future ahead of her, had all her chances of never seeing the little blond girl she fought for the moment the little one's name was said aloud? _And people from the Capitol dare say they are educated._

"I don't see the point in that. So tonight, at the tribute parade, I'm going to take you out and show you off to the world." I told her with a smirk making its way, poking my cheek. A few moments after my words, I saw a small smile creeping up her face bringing every aspect of it to life. She then stated that I was here to make her look pretty and I told her, it was to make an impression. An impression no one else would conquer. One that would truly illustrate the power of the stylist and the tribute, bonded by deep meaning and art.

I find myself walking around her analyzing every inch of her bare body, seeing exactly what she needed to be the girl every man and woman would live to see at least once in their lives.

"Just give me a moment, all right?" I ask, placing one hand on my chin, rubbing it softly. Katniss Everdeen was of very humble beauty. Her figure and face did not scream glamour or panache, but it definitely manifested reality which made her less of the typical type to work with. The dark haired girl carried her beauty on her head and not on her tongue. The closer I looked the happier I was to see that she was fairly healthy despite the famine in her district. I drag my eyes up to her head and notice the braid once again, this time not letting the question I've wanted to ask her slip away. "Who did you hair?" My curiosity was at its peak.

"_My mother." It seemed like I hit a part I shouldn't have. A slight quiver struck her voice._

"It's beautiful. Classic really." I paused as I place a stray strand gently back in the bunch. "And in almost perfect balance with your profile. She has clever hands." I refrain from saying more, her discomfort brought me discomfort that I did not want to bring up during these crucial moments. I did not want her to be a mere tribute I was to polish. Intrigued, I needed some form of connection to her.

After complimenting her mother's work, we quickly began talking about things from myself being the newest stylist of the year all the way to what I wanted her to wear and most of all understand what I wanted her to see through my art.

"So I'll be in a coal miner outfit?" _I saw that coming._

"Not exactly. You see, Portia and I think that coal miner thing's very overdone. No one will remember you in that." I felt this need to accentuate the last sentence. _No one. _"And we both see it our job to make the District Twelve tributes unforgettable." Her face lit up, glimmering with the little joy she had to express her gratitude. "And what do you do with coal?" I asked her, amused. "We burn it."

[…]

A few hours passed. Every drop of sweat was put into bringing these clothes to life. Black, simple, a classic statement color that bonded with any complexion. Fitting, macabre yet complimenting. The cape and head piece contrasted due to the orange and red hues, and as arrogant as it may sound, I was sure this would be the perfect attire for her. No one else would be able to wear it like the Everdeen girl did. Her clear face, with only the slightest hint of makeup made her appeal much stronger and even more now that she was covered in black clothing from her feet all the way to her neck. It honestly did remind me of myself since I was never one to overdress and plunge into the Capitol Couture demeanor. And in regards to makeup, gold liner seemed to be the only thing to suit me. It was one of those ways that made me blend in the Capitol crowd without having to put myself love enough as to look like a clown. The thought of it made my slightly cringe, imagining myself in such clothes and face paint. My skin began to crawl at the idea of it. As an additional thought, there was absolutely no use in masking her skin: it was perfect the way it was and it was even more interesting to bring since it was almost the signature of District Twelve's Seam. Never did I want to bring her down to a state where she had to be ashamed of being from the Seam. On the contrary, she has to show herself, as herself, as the girl from the Seam who saved the life of her own blood, as the girl called Katniss.

I put a hand on her shoulder as we both face the mirror. I wanted her to hear that she was beyond whatever beauty society had defined as of this time, I wanted her to be proud of where she was born and raised. I wanted her to see the rose hiding behind the blooming flower. And as I explained to her my plan for the parade, I wanted her to see her true self. The one side she'll always appear to me as, the one spark I felt ever since I layed my eyes on her. The one girl Panem will forever know as Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire.


End file.
